BILL’S wound, as it turned out, was a painful one, and it had an element of danger. His right leg was shattered, also poisoned badly; it would take a long time to heal and there was a fear that amputation might be necessary. Such a case demanded special treatment, and to Melia’s joy at the beginning of Christmas week she received word from her father that her husband had been transferred from France to the Mayor of Blackhampton’s hospital.

There is no saying how this providential arrangement came about. It may have been coincidence; on the other hand it may not. Josiah in his second year of office was certainly becoming a power, if not an actual puller of strings. Influence may or may not have been at work; anyhow the Corporal bore the long journey so well that Melia, as a special concession, was allowed to see him for a short time on Christmas Eve.

She found him wonderfully cheerful in spite of the fact that he had endured much pain; more cheerful perhaps than she had ever known him. A subtle change had taken place since she had seen him last. The look of utter weariness had yielded to something else. It was as if he had been spiritualized by suffering; indeed as he smiled at her gently from his bed she felt that he was not the kind of man she used to know.

The memory of those few exquisite days in the summer was still in their minds. It was from that point they now took up their lives. For both the world had changed. They saw each other with new eyes. This man of hers had been as good as his word, he had done his best to come back to her; and there, full of pain, he lay helpless as a baby, yet now inexpressibly dear as the only thing in life that had any meaning for her. As for himself, as he smiled up at her, the grace of his dreams was again upon her. This was she about whom the romance of his youth had been woven. He didn’t see her as she was, a commonplace, worn, gray-haired woman, or if he did he remembered the sacrifices she had made for his sake; he remembered that she had once believed in him, and after long days she had come to believe in him again.

There was rare conflict in the clean and quiet room. The walls were hung with holly; everything about the place seemed to minister to a wonderful sense of home. He sighed a deep content as she took a chair by his bed and held a feverish hand in hers.

“Your father’s hospital!” A deep sigh spoke of gratitude. “When you happen to see him tell him from me I’m glad to be in it.”

She promised to do so.

“It’s a good place.” His eyes and his voice grew softer than their wont in speaking of his father-in-law. “A bit of luck to be here.” He sighed luxuriously.

Said Melia, “You must take your time getting well, Bill.”

Eyes of suffering looked into hers. “I expect I won’t be right just yet.” They were still together, passing the time with delightful fragments of talk and with fragments of silence equally delightful when a nurse came importantly into the room to say that the Mayor had arrived unexpectedly to look round the hospital and to wish a happy Christmas to his guests.

Melia rose rather nervously. “I think I’ll be going, Bill.”

“Not yet, my dear.” The voice from the bed was calm and quiet. “We must let bygones be bygones. The times has changed.”

She was glad to hear him say that. And she had not told him yet of her father’s recent act of reparation. Should she tell him now? Was the moment favorable? Or had she better wait until——

The question, however, was already decided. Too late to tell him now. The door at the other end of the room was open and the Commandant had entered followed by his worship the Mayor.

“Only one bed in this room, sir,” said the Commandant. “A special case. Corporal Hollis.”

The Mayor looked calmly round. He didn’t see Melia who was hidden by a screen between the bedstead and the door. “I notice, ma’am, you’ve got another door yonder.” He pointed to the other end of the room. “Hope these new casements fit well.”

The new casements fitted very well indeed.

“All the same,”—the deep voice was very much that of the man of affairs—“I expect you get a bit of draught here when the wind blows from the northeast.”

The draught was nothing to speak of, he was assured.

“Any complaints? Heating apparatus all right? Ventilators working properly?”

There were no complaints to make of any kind.

“Thank you, ma’am,” said the Mayor. “You can leave me here alone a few minutes with Corporal Hollis—if he’s well enough to talk to me.”

The Commandant retired, closing the door after her, and the Mayor slowly approached the bed.

“How are you, Bill?” It was a tone of simple, hearty kindness.

Before the occupant of the bed could answer the question, Josiah, coming round the corner of the screen, was taken aback by the sight of his eldest daughter. He was not prepared for her, yet he was quite equal to the situation. “Hulloa, Melia”—it was a father’s cordiality. “How are you, gel? Happy Christmas to you. Happy Christmas to you both.”

For a little while he stood talking to them, easily and without constraint, while the Corporal lay in his bed saying nothing, but with his worn face softened by pain and service and the thought of others. From time to time he smiled grayly at the Mayor’s pungent humor. Even in the old days “the Mester” had always had a liberal share of that quality in which his fellow townsmen excelled. Josiah’s sense of humor was very keen, particularly when it came to assessing the shortcomings of other people; it had a breadth, a gusto, a penetration which high office seemed to amplify. His stories, comments, criticisms of those prominently before the world kept the Corporal quietly amused for some time. Finally, the Mayor looked at his watch. “I must be getting on,” he said. “I’ve got to address the War Workers’ Association at six o’clock. And at seven I’ve promised to look in at the Hearts of Oak annual soiree and concert.”

Very simply and with the manliness that was part of him he held out his hand. Without hesitation the Corporal took it. They looked in the eyes of one another. “I hope you’re quite comfortable,” said Josiah. “If there’s anything you need you have only to let me know. So long, my boy, and don’t be in a hurry to get well. See you to-morrow, Melia. Wish you could have brought Bill along with you. Happy Christmas.”

With a wave of the hand for them both the Mayor went away, exuding an atmosphere of kindness and goodwill towards all men except Germans. In the Mayor’s opinion Germans were not men at all.

---